


A Christmas Carol but with J.K. Rowling and Mori

by toblerone_official



Category: A Christmas Carol - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, J.K. Rowling - Freeform, i don’t like j.k rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toblerone_official/pseuds/toblerone_official
Summary: J.K. Rowling is a transphobic piece of crap, so Mori (Death) comes to help her not be transphobic.
Kudos: 9





	A Christmas Carol but with J.K. Rowling and Mori

J.K. Rowling was sitting at her computer writing a transphobic tweet. She felt pride in this, as she thought she was being progressive, but she actually wasn’t. She had a glass of the most expensive wine sitting next to her, completely full. Next to the wine glass, was the first Harry Potter book, cracked open to the thirty-second page; this was her sixth time reading it that week. However at this very moment, she was finishing her tweet about how “there is a word to describe people who menstruate”. Amusing her she let out a laugh:  
“Haha, yes! I, Joanne Rowling, have once again uncovered the trans agenda of dismantling femininity!” She exclaimed, giving out a British chuckle. “Let’s just wait for those perverted men and confused women, who definitely chose to be oppressed because they are pretending to be the opposite gender, comment on this tweet and try to justify their existence!” Rowling then took the glass of wine, as she was going to take a sip, then pour it out in the sink, but she knocked it off the desk and onto the floor, shattering the glass instantly.  
“Right, what’s all this then?” Rowling said transphobically. Bending over to pick up the broken heap of sadness that was the wine glass, she saw her reflection; however, there was something off about it. It was almost as if there was another face-  
“Hi there!” exclaimed a high pitched, yet gender neutral voice.  
“Bloody Belgium, who are you?” the transphobe started back, losing her glasses, in the meantime.  
“I’m not technically a who, more of what, but you can call me Mori,” said the voice, however it was disembodied, and the being didn’t show itself.  
“S-sh-show yourself spirit!!!”  
The being showed themself; a being about five feet and seven inches. They wore a black leather vest; however it wasn’t leather of the mortal realm, it was pandimensional leather. They were also wearing a black shirt with a white tie, black pants, black shoes, and blue socks with Gef the mongoose on them. All of this clothing was pandimensional and slightly indescribable.  
“Oh you’re one of those,” Rowling said with a harsh, sarcastic chuckle. “You are part of the reason why gender as a whole is falling apart; there are only two genders. Just because you think that you are a man, doesn’t make you one. So excuse me, ma’am, while I clean up this mess you made.”  
This angered the being, and their cheerful demeanor crumbled. They then said with a passive aggressive tone in their voice:  
“Do you still want to know who I am, what I am, you incoherent piece of human s-” Now, I would put what they said, but the words that came out of the being’s mouth weren’t very age appropriate so I will not put what they said. However, Rowling looked on, dumbfoundedly, at the complete change in the being’s attitude and tone of voice. The being continued:  
“I am more than what your simple, fragile human consciousness can comprehend!” The room seemed to darken, and to slightly rotate around the being. “I am a being made of pure light, a universal constant! I am Death, the harvester of your feeble, mortal souls. I am the singular construct that holds your world together! Your primitive notion of gender, is just that, primitive, obsolete. It does not pertain to me!” Death gave out a laugh that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality. The broken wine glass appeared to be whole again upon the desk; full as it was before.  
“What do you want with me, Death? Has my time as a rich [redacted] finally come?” Rowling was quaking. Death was now even more incomprehensible, but slowly seemed to become less so.  
They said: “Joanne Rowling of Perth, a being, like myself, will show themself upon you, and keep you from your timely rot in the fields of hell. They will appear at the chime of your first hour!” Then their whole tone changed again, as they went back to their cheery demeanor. “Which,is right now. Wow, I’ve been here for a while, huh?”  
Rowling was literally awestruck. She couldn’t move, and finally said with a stutter:  
“Wh-w-wher-where are the-they?” There was a pause for a moment, as if Death was processing this.  
“Hm? Oh, yeah they’re right here!” Death gave a chuckle.  
“B-but you said a being like yourself” Rowling questioned.  
“Well, I’m a being like myself, so I don’t completely understand what you have a problem with,” They were genuinely confused.  
“W-we-well if you say ‘like’ in the context of ‘a being like myself’ it usually refers to another object, or in this case a being.”  
Death paused.  
“Whatever, what do you want?” Rowling was over her shakes.  
“Oh, yeah come with me!” Death grabbed Rowling by the arm, pulled a staff seemingly out of nowhere, and disappeared. Their disappearance created a shockwave that surged throughout the house, knocking down the wine glass once more and instantly shattering it.

The pair went soaring over the wasteland that was England, looking down upon the millions of the less fortunate known as the British. The air was cool, with a hint of imperialism; the lights below them bright with British engenuity. In the distance, they could see the start of France. Rowling thought, Wow, this is just like flying on a broom, but in real life. So she said it out loud:  
“Wow, this is just like flying on a broom, but in real life!”  
“Hm?” Death wasn’t listening, as they were flying and thinking about what they were going to eat later.  
“Like in my novels. There are flying brooms and magic; they are beautiful novels full of diversity and progressive ideologies too!” Rowling seemed very proud of herself.  
“Hm? Oh yeah, those novels where you say you are being progressive, and constantly change the lore to fit a narrative that isn’t true.”  
“Uh, that’s not-”  
“Yet, there are mostly white main characters. You also say that you love women, but the main character is a man, and is seen as a god.”  
“Wait-”  
“Your novels seem very progressive to me; like you yourself. Hating on innocent people that live through experiences worse than hell, trust me I know, just because of your progressiveness.” Death had a more serious tone to them, as if they were actually hurt by the actions of Rowling, and Rowling herself sat there; thinking of the words said by Death.  
“We’re here,” mumbled Death, now saddened.  
“Where is here, Death?”  
“It’s, Mori”  
“What?”  
“My name is Mori. Which is latin for death, yes, but I go by Mori.”  
“But, you were called Death when you were created, yes?”  
“I’m a constant, I’ve always-” They took a deep breath. “Let’s not discuss this right now, we are here.”  
“Where is here, exactly?”  
“Athens.”  
“Greece?”  
“No, Georgia. Haven’t you been paying attention?” Death said with a slight chuckle.  
This couldn’t possibly be true, thought the author. We were just over London heading towards France. How did we get here so fa-  
“Oh, that whole flying thing was just a slight detour. I can teleport wherever I want to; I just like flying. It lets me think about not harvesting souls.” Death, sorry, Mori said with a chuckle.  
“Wait, how did you hear what I was-”  
“Oh, I can read minds. Now, shhh, watch,” Dea- Mori seemed to sit down on nothing.  
The scene was at night, on a slightly crowded sidewalk. The air was chilly, with a slight hint of downtown Athens in the air. Street lights were shining down upon the street, you know, as they should, and the scene was nice, and from Mori and Rowling’s viewpoint atop a short building, they could see two girls enter the scene. They seemed to be laughing together, and had shopping bags in their hands.  
“Death, uhh sorry, Mori?” asked Rowling.  
“Hm?” answered De-Mori.  
“Who are they?”  
“Oh, yeah I forgot to tell you that part!” Death, Mori chimed with a smile. “These two lovely ladies were transwomen, having a fun night out with each other, wasting their money on little trinkets for each other.” Mori’s smile started to fade.  
“They look so much like, well women, but they can’t be, they were born men,” Rowling was puzzled at the simple fact that transwomen are women. She turned to Mori, who had paused the vision so that they could look at her with a face of frustration.  
“They look like women because they are women; they were born women. Everything about them is womanly, except for the fact that they have a Y chromosome; I have no clue how humans, such as yourself, have such a hard time realising this.” De-Mori turned back to the scene. “Now watch.”  
Rowling turned back to the street. The women were still walking, but with a more hurried pace, as a man was now following them, then another man, then another, and another. Then one more turned out in front of them and said with a condescending tone:  
“Well how are you ‘ladies’ doing tonight?” He had said “ladies” in air quotes, that’s why I wrote it like that.  
“W-we-we’re d-doing fine, just trying to get home,” one of the girls answered with a stutter and a nervous laugh.  
One of men pushed the other girl to the ground, and the first one spoke in retaliation:  
“What the hell was that? Just let us go, please!”  
“I don’t know what you think, but you aren’t going to make it out of this. This world doesn’t want things like you and it,” He pointed to the girl on the ground. “So, I’m going to take care of it.”  
The group moved the girls into a cold, dark alley. It stank a depressed stink, one of emptiness, one of death. The ground was damp, and no light trickled into that space. The five men threw both of the girls to the ground, and started beating them. Rowling watched in horror.  
“M-m-mori please make it stop! W-we can help them!” She pleaded.  
Mori paused the vision. “We can’t help them. This happened last night at 8 in the evening. I was here to guide their souls. Now let us continue,” they said unpausing the scene.  
Crying, Rowling saw the men beat for nearly thirty minutes, until the girls were lifeless and unmoving. She saw the five men run away from the scene, with the belongings of the girls in hand. At this point, Rowling had completely broken down. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and could barely breathe. Coughing, she spoke in a broken voice:  
“Why-why-why did you show me this?”  
“To show you the hate that you sew! The women had loving families and went through the worst part of hell to get to where they were, and look at them! They died in a way that many trans people die. This doesn’t just happen to transwomen either; it happens to transmen and nonbinary people too!” Mori Noticed that Rowling wasn’t looking at the street below and became explosive. “Look at them! Look into their lifeless eyes! They died in vain, and you spew hate saying that these people don’t deserve to be recognized! LOOK AT THEM!!” The being grabbed the face of the mortal below them, and pointed it to the ground below. “This is the problem that you allow to happen. Now, I love mortals more than I love my immortal siblings, but sometimes I don’t understand how you cannot love your own.” And with that, Mori grabbed Rowling, and their staff, and left the wretched scene  
The pair arrived back at the Rowling estate, with Rowling thoroughly traumatized. The house air was stale, and full of silence. The clocks had ceased ticking, and the computer was off. Mori finally broke the deafening silence:  
“I’m sorry about the whole ‘look at them’ thing at the end.” Mori gave a nervous chuckle. “You just needed to look at them, and you weren’t. Now I hope you see the error of your ways, but I can’t force anything. Well, I mean I can. I am a god after all, but this isn’t the point. The point is that, I hope you look at the hate and the problems you are supporting, and see the problem with them. Now, I’m going to meet my friend, Gef the mongoose. So, see you soon, and have fun with your nightmares. Byeeee!” Mori left with a flash.  
Rowling sat on her couch in complete silence. She noticed that the clocks started moving again, but it was only 1:01am. The ticking was loud, along with the hum of her computer which was now suspiciously opened to Twitter now. She took a minute to process this, and noticed that her wine glass was no longer broken. Sniffling, she finally got up and sat at her computer desk, and chugged the entire glass of wine. She then deleted all of her past transphobic tweets, and started to write a new one:  
“Dear every trans person that I have hurt,” she said aloud. “I am more than sorry for everything I have done to wrong you, and for the disappointment you must feel of me. I now know that I am ignorant, and that I had no right to say anything about your experiences. I would like to learn more about you and your history. For my wrong-doings, I would like to confirm that canonically, Draco is trans. Thank you all for your patience, and once again, sorry for the things I have said and for being British.” She posted the tweet on twitter, and turned off her computer then went to her bed to try to sleep.

When Rowling woke up in the morning, the sun was shining, a first for the UK. The air was crisp and cool, as she forgot to turn on her heater. Rowling ran down to her kitchen to make some coffee and some beans on toast, as that’s what the British eat. She joyfully sat down and started eating, the said out loud:  
“Wait, what did they mean by ‘see me soon?’”

END


End file.
